


Ice Cream Castles

by Silver Lioness (Rumpels_Darker_Dearie)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Desk Sex, Dom Ginny, Dom Kingsley, F/M, Frottaging, Kidnapping, Light BDSM, Light Stalkering, Light Torture, May/December Relationship, Older Man/Younger Woman, Sex Letters, Sub Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 22:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20571782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumpels_Darker_Dearie/pseuds/Silver%20Lioness
Summary: The Emerald Tiger is a new club built in an Alley between Knockturn and Diagon - three witches decide to randomly visit it to see what all the fuss is about... Or is it? When it is said it caters to all tastes, what does that mean? What happens when long-held secrets are revealed that night...What hidden nuggets of personal knowledge can possibly be held by Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger and their first Slytherin Friend Daphne Greengrass, and why does she insist she and Lucius talk privately?





	Ice Cream Castles

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sing-Me-A-Rare Volume 4. Much love to my Beta and Alpha who shall remain nameless for the moment. [Exclude what is necessary]  
Song Prompt - [Slow, Love, Slow] - [Nightwish: Marco Hietala, Emo Vuorinen, Tuomas Holopainen...etc] - [Imaginaerum]
> 
> Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Thank you to my light alpha and beta peeps, who shall remain nameless until this contest is over. Without them some fo the details would not be there that I now love myself.

**ICE CREAM CASTLES**

**Prologue**

For a person who practically owns stocks and shares of the secrets market, even I was gobsmacked by some juicy morsels that threatened to scandalise society. A lot of people have dark secrets. None more so than our heroine, Daphne Greengrass. Suffice to say the war had bred a generation of secret keepers. Secrets that could make or break friendships and other relationships, secrets that threatened to fray at the seams of the fabric upon which society is made. 

Trust was at an all-time low and only those grizzled warriors on that fateful day, May 02nd, 1998, which shall forever stand in our world as a day of true freedom from darkness, seemed to remember the days when trust was at a premium. 

Ginny Weasley had a secret, so did Harry Potter. In fact, on Ginny’s 18th birthday a lot of secrets threatened to spill. What were some of these secrets?

Let me expand my dear readers. I shall make this tale as salacious as I dare. 

The Emerald Tiger – August 11th 1999

“Here it is,” Ginny said as she dragged her friends down an alley that was part of, and between Knockturn and Diagon. On the Knockturn side, a new club had opened, rumoured to cater to everyone’s taste. 

The three witches were forced to remain in single file, Ginny stopped, remarking smugly, “I told you so. Whoa!” she exclaimed. Causing her friends to run straight into her back, “I have to tell you, there’s quite a queue.” 

Hermione had slipped on the cobbles and her heel was stuck in a crack. The third of their party, Daphne, helped pull Hermione out of her trapped shoe and was about to fish the shoe out but was instead accosted by a few heavily muscled bearded types, one had two front teeth missing.

“Having trouble, girly.” one said then his eyes swivelled towards Hermione. “Looks like our luck’s changin’ boys – a bona fide war heroine!”

“Fenrir Greyback,” Hermione hissed taking a step away from him. “What are you doing here?”

“Goin’ to that new club over there – I’m tight with the boss. He’ll let me in no trouble.” Fenrir Greyback stooped down and rescued the footwear then handed it over to Daphne who blushed, taking it with a quirk of the eyebrow and a small smile. Hermione grabbed the shoe and rammed her foot in it, trying not to hop about like a mad hare, she wobbled madly and clutched onto the nearest person - Fenrir looking ridiculous as she did so. The unkempt men swaggered into the club without them. 

Time passed and the triumvirate of witches was still waiting outside, in the queue when another voice interrupted their quiet reverie, “Excuse me, ladies.” 

Whoever told them it was a good idea to make friends with the Slytherins after the war forgot to take one thing into account – you befriend one, you may as well befriend them all. Draco Malfoy offered his arm to Daphne and Hermione with Ginny in front and the girls walked in. 

Once at the bar, he smirked. “Three lilies would only wilt in the heat of the August sun. Tell me, what’s your pleasure?”

“Pimms please,” Daphne said. She loved the fact that it was a knickerbocker glory one could drink.

“Blackberry Cider for me, please,” Ginny said, her west country bur made the ‘c’ sound like a ‘z'.

Everyone waited for Hermione to speak. “Alan Rickman,” she sighed aloud.

“_Drink,_ Hermione, what would you like to _drink _?” Daphne asked with laughter in her voice.

“The best house white wine available, please?”

Now, one knows the saying, _in vino veritas _\- in wine lies the truth… well, here is where the night gets interesting.

*~*~*~*

Hours later the witches were laughing, as they were telling jokes and stories of their separate times at Hogwarts… “and then, and then,” Hermione laughed, “wham! Onnn his nnnnn, righ’ n.n.n.nose,” she stammered, “and then and then I was was erm called Blirriant but s.s.s. blirriant but sc-a-r-eeeeeeeeeeeee, that’s right Blirriant but scaree!”

“Don’t you mean brilliant and scary, Hermione?” Daphne translated and giggled after a hiccup. 

“S’what I said, blirriant but scaree!”

“Never mind, Daph,” Ginny said. “When Hermione gets sozzled her words don’t make any sense. It’s fun, and we get to tease her about it later.”

“I feel funny,” Hermione said as her complexion turned green and clutched her stomach.

Outside in the alley, Hermione spewed and coughed, afterwards wiping over her mouth. Daphne kindly cleared up the vomit with her wand then walked over to Hermione to support her.

“Thanks, Daphs,” Hermione slurred as she leant on the other witch. “C-c-celebrating 18th birthdays are soooooo fun.” 

Ginny rushed out of the building red-faced with excitement in her chocolatey eyes. “There’s more to the club than meets the eye, follow me.”

They followed her inside, walked past the bar into the VIP lounge, and the bouncer recognised two of them to be warriors from the day of reckoning, let them in. “You’d best be open-minded,” Ginny warned. “When Draco first showed us I was shocked.”

Once the curtain was drawn back and shut again, Hermione wondered what was so great about a dark space – then the lights went on and she found they were in a corridor lined with red carpet, with a viewing panel every few feet, to watch real people have sex. Blushing, Hermione tried to keep her head down until she spotted someone she recognised further down the queue. The girls marched down to where an unsuspecting Harry stood, ogling at Blaise Zabini wrapping his arms and legs around – wait, Ginny squinted – Alicia Spinnet? Wasn’t she a few years older than them? Opposite Blaise Zabini was…Daphne had caught up she was fiddling with her form-fitting red robes. She was about to giggle as she observed Professor Snape in one of the rooms with a striking looking redhead but was struck dumb at the sight of Astoria lying naked on the bed, legs open and waiting for – Draco Malfoy to…

Spluttered Daphne, “What kind of place is this?”

“A voyeur’s dream I should imagine,” Hermione quipped.

In the next space was enclosed rooms with peephole covers where one could get a glimpse of the delicious goings-on inside. Then they entered what looked like another bar and a dancefloor that had couples in cages doing what Hermione considered to be lewd and… was that woman walking on that man’s back, in heels?

“Ginny, why do I get the feeling you’ve been here before?”

“I haven’t!”

“Ginevra?” Daphne said slowly, “Molly,” she put her feet apart and tipped her head to the side and tapped a few fingers against her hip bone, “Weasley,” she finished giving the girl enough time to formulate a truthful answer. “I’m a Slytherin, I’ll not be lied to – you’ve been here before.”

“Yes, I have,” she said stoutly. 

“Blaise and Alicia, who knew?” Harry winked, then turned green at the sight of the other girls. A blonde strode past in black and red latex leading an older man by the collar. Daphne’s eyebrow arched and glared towards the two. “This had better be good!”

There was a spare table and the group slipped into the bench encircling it. “Look, I’m 18 now,” Ginny said. “I can finally join.”

“This?” Hermione spluttered indignantly as the carnal sights rendered her sober. 

But her spluttering stopped the moment she spotted Kingsley lead a woman around. He looked bored until his gaze lit upon hers and a frisson of excitement trembled throughout her body. Daphne felt her shudder, silently looked between the two and put her hands up in silent surrender. 

“Spill,” Daphne snarled.

“Chill, Daph,” Harry said calmly. “I’ve been hanging around Blaise Zabini a lot since Ron er…was Ron, he introduced Ginny and me to this. I get excited when Ginny pulls at my hair or orders me around, in turn, she loves to be dominant and pet me and call me a good boy. We also talked to the Lupins together and separately about this – did you know they were in this lifestyle? Then I guess it got serious and we felt lonely not being able to tell you and… Ginny is training to be a Dom, and I’m training to be a Sub. This is our choice – please understand!”

“If it’ll help you through your other pains, I can be supportive,” Hermione said as her eyes stayed locked on Kingsley.

Daphne was about to give up on her friends; this hedonistic place was certainly not for her. She decided to try and discreetly leave but her escape routes were blocked, one by a flushed Astoria who glanced at her sister with astonishment and shame on her face, and the other by…Daphne’s secret lover.

Although unorthodox, their relationship started when he was in Azkaban, and they sent letters to each other. Daphne, being a child whose parents were politically neutral, was chosen to write letters along with other neutrally raised children. Her assigned Death Eater was Lucius Malfoy – the more they wrote, the more they fell in love.

Even though they were never seen in public together, this impromptu tête-à-tête was not going to work out for the best. Ginny had already let one cat out of the bag, it wouldn’t do for Hermione to find out another. Especially after what Draco told her what had happened in Malfoy Manor that awful March day. 

It was socially shameful for her to hold feelings for the married and disgraced former ministry employee – but Daphne could not help but be mesmerised. 

Suddenly Lucius swept in with a scowl marring his otherwise perfect face. He strode over to their table; Hermione folded her arms across her chest petulantly scowling underneath her bushy hair. Daphne sighed and wished her friend could see the warm, gentle person she knew.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed.

Anger flashed through Daphne’s sea-blue eyes, her cheeks reddened, and she pursed her lips. “I’m here having a drink with my friends,” she said, “I might ask you the same question.”

“I own the place – I don’t participate.”

“So that makes it okay?” She stood up now causing him to straighten his spine – she ignored Ginny clearing her throat to try and stop her from blowing up. Even Hermione tried tugging on Daphne’s sleeve. “I’m here with my friends – two of whom decided to come out as Submissive and Dominant on her birthday. I happen to be enormously proud of them,” she said. “However, none of this,” she gestured in an elegant pirouette, “bothers me one whit. I might even be curious about this myself. I’m not some delicate little doll living in an ice cream castle, you know. I can dance to the intoxicating chord in Cirque du carnal too.”

“You’re a Princess, Daphne, you know how I feel about you. I write to you often enough.”

“Well, stop writing and start showing.”

“What is going on here?” Hermione finally asked.

The two parted and slowly turned to her. It was clear they had forgotten they were in front of an audience, “Sorry, sweeties, but I must go. Don’t,” she warned; her blue eyes turned turquoise, when she was angry, “follow us.”

Shocked by her fierce expression, Ginny and Hermione did as their friend bid. Lucius stood at a black door with egress painted in green letters, a sign underneath marked ‘Staff Only'. Even he seemed to shrink in the wake of Daphne’s temper – keeping a passive face he opened the door for her and followed, shutting the door behind them blocking all noise from the club.

A few steep wooden stairs led up to what turned out to be a sumptuous two-floor office. Halfway up the wall, a semi-circle mezzanine floor ended in a half-moon bank of windows charmed to look one-way out onto the bar and the dance floor below. Swing chairs were neatly arranged underneath a black desk with parchment and quills charmed by the owner to record what was happening in the club every half-an-hour in all areas of the building. Bookshelves covered the other half of the circle.

On the lower floor, Daphne perched her bottom on the edge of his mahogany rococo desk. Lucius sat in a green wing-backed chair, silently observing her.

“It didn’t occur to you to mention this in your letters?” she asked, a vulnerability set in that Daphne quickly swept aside in the mask of icy coldness. “You didn’t consider I might want to know about this side of you?”

“I thought you’d be disgusted with me. I am a businessman; this is a business. I was not certain that…”

“That what? That I’d disapprove? Not want to help? I know I’m not a clever-clogs like Hermione, but I’m not stupid either,” she huffed and folded her arms across her ample chest turning her head. “Am I never going to be enough for you?”

“Good enough for me?” he gasped, sinking to his knees before her. “I am nowhere near good enough for _you,_ Daphne.”

“So why can’t you let down your guard? Why don’t you let me in? You just write and write and write, sheets and sheets and they mean nothing – they’re just lazy scribbles and you know it,” she said flinging her arms wildly about matching her frenzied pacing. 

It seemed Lucius’ eyes turned silver for a moment as he stood up, then he strode purposefully towards her. He grabbed her biceps and rubbed his thumbs up and down her flesh.

“I do mean it,” he entreated earnestly. His lower lip trembled, and he pulled her gently in his arms. “I do mean it, my darling Princess.”

“I’m not a Princess,” she snuffled into his intoxicatingly scented embrace. Was that coriander and rosewood? She relaxed in his arms and wrapped hers around his waist. “I don’t know how to feel? You could have anyone. Why me, a background Slytherin?”

“You wrote to me more than my wife. Your charm and wit helped me fight against the Dementors. You managed to sneak in chocolate. You are my saviour, my guardian angel. You, the Princess, helped save the Prince.” He hushed her as he patted and stroked her hair; she was shaking in his arms but smiled up at him. He squeezed her again and held her at arm’s length, he tilted her chin and he noticed she’d been crying in his arms. “A Princess does not necessarily have to be helpless. Goodness knows, Narcissa wasn’t – she could frighten Bellatrix sometimes into silence. You, Daphne,” he murmured, following her eyes as she refused to gaze into his. “Please Daphne, forgive me for keeping this a secret, but what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do your friends know we’re promised?” He quirked his head down and stared at her wrist where she had charmed his silver snake promise bracelet invisible to avoid questions from her extraordinarily perceptive friends. “Daphne?”

“No,” she whispered settling her eyes on her shoes as she let out fresh tears. “I just don’t know how to tell them.”

“I am tired of sneaking around, of having my friends try to set me up with old, overly made-up witches who want a trophy husband. I’ve _been _the trophy son-in-law. I already have an amazing witch.” He stepped close and pecked her on the nose. “I adore you my darling I want the world to know about you. I want to show you off, drape you in silks and,” he pressed his lips to her, she gasped, “I want _you_, darling.”

To emphasise this he tipped her head back, parting her lips and dove in. His tongue wrapped around her; she was the only nectar he wanted to sample. They hugged tighter as they continued exploring each other’s mouths. He nipped her lower lip tenderly before engulfing her once again, his hands started exploring, pulling the top of her robes down, tearing them in the process. Gloriously heated flesh met his palms stroking up her sides. She sighed into his mouth and shuddered delightfully under his touch. 

Suddenly he ripped his mouth away from hers and lowered his head to her neck, suckling on her ear as he planted kisses around her throat down to her clavicle, licking along her exposed chest. His hands moved to her breasts, she gasped at his touch. She laid on the desk, her kiss-swollen lips were calling to him once more. She was panting and wriggled beneath him as he hitched one of her legs on his hip and rubbed his length against her soaked panties.

“Such an eager little thing,” he purred and stood up.

Now open to his heated gaze, she blushed and slowly parted her legs. “Please, please finish what you started.”

“Hmm, if I do,” he said as he undid his cravat, carefully removing the pearl pin keeping it together, “would you tell your friends about us?”

“Yes, anything, please!”

With that he took his outer robes off and hitched her skirt up over her waist, pulling her emerald silk panties down her thighs. “I know I’m Rubenesque,” she blushed.

“Oh no,” he murmured hungrily as he took down his trousers to stand between her legs. “I’m having you, the whole of you.”

“But I’m so fat!” she wailed. “You don’t have to pretend any longer. I must disgust you!”

“Fat?” he questioned, tilting his head. “Oh, my love, I want you because you are not skinny. You dress to_ accentuate _your voluptuous curves. You, my dear heart, are all woman and I love this little tattoo of a tiger prowling in the jungle on your right hip,” he said as he licked and followed the path the cautious cat took around her thighs, that shuddered and shook as he licked down her legs ignoring the stretch marks. Instead, declaring her beautiful the moment he opened up her core, like a flower parting its petals to the sunshine. 

“Oh no, I desire you, Daphne,” he inhaled her aroma a look of peace wafted over his face. “Now,” he said, “let me introduce you to my serpent.” He smirked as he took his erection in hand and slowly inched his way in. 

“Oh, oh, oh,” she breathed in and out as the foreign sensation took some getting used to. She was taking him in, inch by inch, he thrust in the rest when he was certain she could take it. Merlin, he felt good but her insecurities rose once more. “Are you sure I’m what you want?”

“Oh yes,” he whispered hungrily, he allowed her time, he slowly pulled out. Her hands grabbed the back of his Poets shirt, digging her nails in his skin. “Now, be prepared!”

She was no longer shy, self-conscious, or angry, rather she was greedy for completion. Suddenly he rammed into her so hard she could see stars. “Wow!” she gasped her body thrust up in response. “How do I feel wrapped around your ‘serpent’?” she panted. She wrapped her arms around his neck nibbling on his earlobe just like he was doing to her. 

“My serpent loves you!” he huffed in reply.

“I love you, Lucius."

Then there were no more words. Scraping sounds of the desk moving against the floor accompanied by grunts, groans, and moans of pleasure that could be heard by anybody. At that moment it was Malfoy’s personal bodyguard, Fenrir Greyback, who had heard. Desiring for himself that meaty creature being rutted into oblivion by his boss, he walked away.

*~*~*~*

“Hello,” a dark voice whispered in Hermione’s ear. She turned around and yelped when she saw Kingsley standing close behind her, the warmth from his body made her feel wanted. “Could I have a word, Hermione?” 

“Sure,” she muttered. Quickly she edged out of the table, Kingsley led her to a dark corner on the dance floor, twirling her around with ease. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Please do not tell anyone you saw me here.”

“Minister, what you do with your life is none of my business,” she replied. “Besides, I found out Ginny and Harry are involved in the lifestyle too. I must admit I’m…intrigued.”

“Perhaps I should take you to dinner?”

“Perhaps you should.”

Greyback ventured back down to the main bar, glanced at the table with the other bride he had his eye on and found she was dancing with the Minister for Magic looking quite happy.

They were his! He would show them! It was time to become proactive.

**Willow Tree Lodge – August 12th-24th 1999 – Epistles of Love and Jealousy**

Daphne woke up the next morning feeling content and more determined than ever to reveal her secret to her friends. The rest of the evening went well, surprised as she was that Hermione was getting cosy with a well-dressed Minister of Magic. They had exited that area of the Emerald Tiger by silent assent. Now she had decent memories to get through all the tedious tea parties that her mother insisted she attend. Arrangements peppered with just the right amount of polite chit-chat mixing in a soupçon of bitchery to keep things interesting. 

Each ball that passed in the coming days were drama-free except for the glances sent her way by an intensely brooding Lucius Malfoy. Daphne had yet to make up her mind whether to come out as a couple in public or not. She was uncertain if it would be received well or social suicide. Her sister was dating the son, how would it look if the father married_ her_? Raised as he was, he was willing to wait. She could feel his patient aura wash over her every time she talked to another wizard. But she couldn’t help feeling as if she’d disappointed him somewhat; that she should have taken his hand, led him to the glittery dance floor and claimed him publicly as hers. 

On August 15th, she received a slew of letters that were laid out on a silver platter at the breakfast table she and her father sat at. The first letter was from Ginny gushing about how wonderful Harry was and _shockingly_, they were _engaged_. She quickly hid the second letter. The third letter was from Hermione detailing her first dinner date with the man she’d been crushing on since they fought together in the battle of the seven Potters. Pleased as she was for her friends, she wished she could have the courage to be as open about her lover as they were theirs. The flowing script of the fourth letter she recognised without reading who it came from. Eagerly, she used the sword letter opener that Hermione bought for her as a birthday present.

_Dearest Daphne,_

_I can no longer pretend; I am in anguish daily whenever I think of you. Your warmth, kindness, decorum, comportment – everything about you screams that you should be by my side, that we should host next year’s events together – walk in Malfoy Manor’s gardens under the starlit sky. That you weave your magic on me with every turn of your head, that your eyes gaze upon me with the love I feel for you._

_I keep asking myself, do I love you, or the thought of you? I am trying to take things slowly, trying to give you room to explore and grow but I yearn for you – I feel at home in your embrace whenever we dance together, the impatience to tilt your head and kiss you, then ravish you until you have not a thought in your head but of how I feel, and complete you. I feel that you and I should be a ‘we.’ I know we should take things slow, love, but slow is not working for me anymore._

_Tell me, dear, whose lips read rhymes of poetry every time they speak, yet they speak not of any thought given to my proposal at the Emerald Tiger – I have been driven senseless and sleepless thinking of you. _

_Tell me, is there any chance that all my I-love-Yous will be directed to you?_

_Desperately yours _

_Lucius Malfoy _.

She gulped as she opened the one that she quickly hid and blushed at the sentiments written in that one. Daphne had a secret admirer, and another secret, she wished Lucius would write salaciously naughty things to her. Phrases like: ‘_ I want you to suck me off as I come down your throat _’; ‘ _I want to feel the tight walls of your core to suck me in deeper into your soul _’, and, ‘ _I want to see your breasts bouncing up and down as I service you from behind _;’ would mean so much more from Lucius pen, but she had to content herself with the fact that Lucius was a gentleman. Although she adored his older sense of values and mostly desired to keep him that way, she wished he would loosen up and rediscover his sexual side, like he did that night.

Merlin! Her head pounded with all the indecision, warring over whether to tell the truth or remain silent. She thought she’d test it on her father first. He was the right person to tell.

“Father,” she said somewhat querulously.

Silvanus Greengrass had rustled the paper and picked up his coffee, “Hmm, what is it?” he recognised the tone and knew Daphne had something to share with him. He put the cup to his lips.

“I have a gentleman friend,” she cancelled the charm on the bracelet.

“That’s nice,” he sipped. “Who is the lucky wizard?”

“Lucius Malfoy.” Her father spat the coffee right out of his mouth, splattered the corner of the paper and his daughter’s cheek at the same time. His eyes bulged out like a captured gnome.

“I’LL BLOODY KILL HIM!” Silvanus roar echoed through the dining room, pounding his fist rattling the plates, Daphne flinched.

“No father, it’s beautiful, he’s really sweet and,” she showed him the delicate silver bracelet fashioned into a serpent with emerald eyes, “he gave me this from his own vaults. We’re in love – he wants to marry me.” 

“What in Salazar’s name for?”

“For love, father – the one and only reason someone should marry.”

“I heard the Longbottom boy was sweet on you in school.”

“I’m not interested in him,” she said, her tone taking a serious turn. “I’m sure Lucius would ask for your permission first, but I do love him if he asked me I would gladly marry him.”

**Forest of Dean August 27th 1999**

Sunshine beat down on the denizens of Diagon Alley this Monday 27th of August, where two bright witches dressed in daytime finery walked down the streets, their arms hooked together as they browsed window after window in search of a suitable present for an engagement party. An ominous breeze sprang up when the girls were just about to go into Flourish and Blotts Hermione clung closer to Daphne, startling her, whilst Hermione stuck to her like glue. She felt better knowing it was the most populated shop in Diagon Alley, but before she could finish that thought invisible arms wrapped around her waist.

“DAPHNE, RUN!”

But the other girl also felt a pair of arms around her torso. “Sorry Hermione,” was all she managed to say as their unseen assailants disapparated with them. 

Forced apparition came with its own side effects, like making Hermione vomit all over her captor’s shoes. _Serves him right _, Daphne thought before she spewed over her captors grabbing hands. Once she realised it was the Snatchers that had caught them unawares Hermione struggled. She was bound in ropes that squeezed tighter with every move. 

Daphne’s Snatcher wrapped a rope around her wrists manually, pushed her down on her knees in the mud. Both girls stared bravely with disobedience in their eyes. The Snatchers laughed but fell silent the moment a brown-haired man with a red stripe down one side of his face strode out from a crowd that had quickly surrounded them. They were at the centre of a wide circle – a heavy boot kicked Daphne’s back, another Snatcher had copied his mate and did the same to Hermione, agonising and painful the girls screamed.

“Good, yes, you got the right ones.” He knelt down in front of Hermione and tilted her chin up. She tried to nip his skin with her teeth, but he was clever and managed to touch her with the tip of his pointer fingers, gripping tightly onto either side of her face examining both sides. 

“Well, well, hello beautiful!” he exclaimed. 

“Leave us alone!” she hissed.

The man affected sadness and regret in his cold blue eyes. “Sorry beautiful, I can’t do that,” he smirked as he leaned closer to Hermione and whispered something in her ear. “Behold, your future master – Fenrir Greyback.”

“Well, well,” he unwittingly mimicked his subordinate, who had leaned back from Hermione’s face. “How are my brides?”

“Brides?” Daphne stammered. “No, I’m promised to Lucius Malfoy…”

“Are you now?” Greyback, the dark enigmatic werewolf bent low, the raw meat and blood scent of his breath causing Daphne to gag. His paws like hands reached into Daphne’s beautiful shining hair. “I see no ring. No promise bracelet. I think someone has deluded herself.”

On the cusp of her peripheral vision, she watched helplessly as Hermione had a boot pressing her neck down pushing her face further into the mud squashing her in the soil. Daphne stared in horror as Hermione started coughing and seizing up. Even then, Hermione tried to say something that Daphne couldn’t quite decipher. When the vicious Snatcher noticed the girls were trying to communicate he raised his boot only to slam it hard on the centre of Hermione’s back; the blood-curdling scream haunted Daphne’s waking nightmares. Frightened and quivering, she watched as Hermione whimpered and sobbed, curled in a foetal position. 

“These are my men. They’re rather desperate,” red stripe said walking around them. “But my boss, Fenrir, is hungry one might say, and he needs pups. A wolf normally has more than one mate and he’s taken a shine to you two.” Neither noticed the tears strolling down Hermione’s face nor did they notice Daphne try to free her wrists. “Now, he cannot decide which of the two of you he desires first so, men.”

The two unnamed Snatchers picked the girls up by their hair, causing them to squeal from the pain. “If you don’t want ter feel me boot again then you’d best stop snivelling!” They sneered and gruffly tugged the two witches along by their hair. There was a muddy dome that could barely be called a dwelling.

“No no please,” Hermione struggled. “Please no!”

“Get in!” the Snatcher, a face indented with scars, an eye patch and teeth that resembled piano keys growled at his prisoners.“Unless yer want me to come in with ya!”

He kicked open the rustic wooden door and threw Hermione in, deciding to kick her backside at the last minute causing her to stumble and fall face-first on the hard mud floor. A stone collided with her cheek and gashed it open small trickles of blood crawled down towards her jaw. Daphne’s was less gruff and just shoved her in with his hand on her bottom, lasciviously groping it before the ugly one pulled him off. They shut the door, encasing them in pure darkness. The only shards of light filtered through the cracks in the door.

“Daphne,” Hermione sobbed, “are you alright?”

“I’m more worried about you,” Daphne sighed. She reached out with her leg to feel for her friend's hand but tied up as they were it was impossible. Their wands were under their sleeves, stuck to holsters wrapped around their arms, and were unreachable. “So has he been writing to you to then?”

“Yes, but I didn’t take it seriously.” Hermione sighed “I have a connection to him and have kept a secret from you – I did so to protect myself but…” Hermione’s tears and sniffles were all she could hear, deprived of other senses as she was. “Daphne, that man, that monster – turned my uncle into a Werewolf when he was a young boy. I found out that Remus is my Uncle and my mother was a squib. Once he worked out whom I was he…he…began blackmailing me. I w-w-w-wish I’d paid him now.”

“Nonsense,” Daphne cried to support her friend. “Did you think I’d think any less of you if your Uncle was a werewolf?”

“There is a stigma attached to them,” Hermione sighed through her sobs. “A-a-and you were promised to Lucius Malfoy who is famously against werewolves. I was scared, I d-d-didn’t want to ruin your chances or lose your friendship!”

“Never!” Daphne exclaimed vehemently. “We’ll always be friends,” she shuffled crab-like to get nearer to Hermione. “I like Remus. If he’s half as brilliant as you, I’d think about him a lot. However,” she sighed, “it’s too late. My heart has chosen.”

“You get a sane country gentleman asking for your hand and I get a psychopathic werewolf! What does that say about me?”

“That you like a challenge,” Daphne joked. It almost worked as she heard Hermione snort a little. “Seriously,” she said, “you deserve better than him and I will help you. Besides,” the girl used her feet to console Hermione, “What of your promise with Kingsley?”

“Well, he must have lots of friends that need a husband.” 

Daphne slumped down further trying not to feel like a damsel in distress, but she wanted so much to find Lucius on the other side of the door. For this to be a dream. 

Time, though swallowed by the thick gloom, managed to crawl sluggishly by. Eventually, one day whilst the girls were nearly asleep was when the cruel-looking, ugly Snatcher walked in with two plates of thin soup and hard bread. “Can’t be standing on ceremony now can we.”

“How can we eat with our hands tied?” Daphne asked in a tone that suggested to the man that he was stupid. 

Unfortunately, for her, the man sensed it and in response, he poured one bowl of soup down on the floor then knelt down and began rubbing his hands up and down Daphne’s legs. “If me Master weren’t set on turning you at the full moon to whelp his pups then I’d have ye meself.”

“Then be thankful for small mercies,” Hermione snarled. 

For that, he stood up and kicked Hermione in her ribs. “I could occupy yer mouth with less pleasant pursuits,” he groaned, then he picked up the second bowl of soup and tipped it down on Hermione’s head. “We’ve orders, not ter touch yer, but your smart mouths are goin’ to tip me over. Keep quiet and yer won’t get hurt!”

“JUGSON!” yelled the brown-haired Snatcher. “Didja just hurt the girls? Deliver the food and untie them so they could eat were your orders – yer weren’t ter touch ‘em.” 

He stepped in the hut looming tall over both girls and Jugson. “Terribly sorry, ladies, but it seems my men have hurt you both. I will be glad to examine any and all injuries…after the ceremony.”

“W-w-what ceremony?”

“PARLAY!” Hermione yelled, “I know we can parlay. I demand to speak to your leader.”

“Hermione, what on earth…” Daphne whispered as the two men looked at each other and nodded.

“I’m saving you; you are on a decent promise – I’m not going to ruin your future.”

“But…” they watched as the men left to fetch Fenrir.

“Shh,” Hermione hushed, and they both straightened up. 

“Was told you wanted to see me,” Greyback said as he entered the mud hut. “What do you want to talk about then?”

“Let her go,” Hermione said. “Let my friend go and I’ll…I’ll pup with you.”

“If she stays?”

“No pups.”

Astonishment did not begin to cover the wide gamut of emotions fluttering through Daphne right at this moment. She was fearful for her friend, proud of her bravery, and scared for a grim future Hermione did not deserve. Why was she doing this? 

“No Hermione, don’t do this, don’t ruin your future!”

“Let her speak,” Greyback growled as his lieutenant stood above Daphne, pointing his wand down on her to keep; silent. “Go on.”

“Please, let Daphne be, you only need one willing witch to mate with and you already hate my mother’s family for what my grandfather said, do not pretend you didn’t know who I truly was. You can turn me, I will pup with you, but you have to let Daphne go. Keep her and no pups from _either _of us!”

“You drive a hard bargain, but I accept. Scabior!” The brown-haired man glanced up at his leader, awaiting instruction, “untie Miss Greengrass and allow her to Disapparate.”

“What if she leads people here to save _her _?”

Greyback kept his eyes on Hermione’s. “Then we will fight.”

**RE-SHAPING THE ICE CREAM CASTLES**

Silvanus was not happy to have a red-haired girl storming into his study, demanding to know where her friends were. He also did not appreciate Lucius Malfoy storming uninvited through his Floo to demand the same thing. The last straw was when the red-haired girl’s fiancé stood there, arms folded, an accusatory glare pinning him down in his seat. He hated the fact that his bedtime was disturbed.

“They’re probably at a club…” he tried to say but was silenced when Ginevra, he recalled her name now, produced two boxes – one covered in red roses and one covered in lilacs and set them on his desk. “….Or not?”

Lucius took the one covered with roses as he knew that was Daphne’s least favourite flower. “These are letters – from,” he picked up the top one, “Oh no, no....” His already pale complexion turned practically green. “Fenrir Greyback!”

“These are to Hermione from Greyback also,” Ginny said examining the letters from the lilac box.

“How… coarse,” Lucius complained and tossed it aside. “_ I cannot stop thinking about you as I _…no one sends letters like these to a Lady, especially a Lady of Daphne’s fine sensibilities.”

“_ Dear Beautiful,_” Ginny read from Hermione’s box she found under her friend’s bed. “ _I can’t live without your eyes and hands and lips to service me as I come into your m… _” Ginny was unable to finish as Silvanus snatched the letter out of her hand and read it.

“Disgusting!” he spat.

“Did Daphne not tell you she was receiving letters from that monster?”

“No!” Silvanus protested strongly. “Where did you find those and why did the girls keep them?”

“They were ashamed. I know Hermione considers it sacrilege to burn the written word, no matter who wrote it. Daphne probably kept them to show Lucius at an opportune moment.”

At that time, Daphne pirouetted into her father’s study. Eyes widened like a deer in headlights and she shrunk against the wall as everyone silently stared at her. Then her eyes lowered to the scrunched up papers in Lucius’ grip; his silver eyes had turned arctic. Her father’s jaw ticked with anger. Ginny – the reason that they were in Diagon Alley a few days ago - had turned bright red with indignation.

“What happened?” Silvanus whispered fiercely.

She burst into tears as the truth flooded out of her system and looked from father to best friend, to her father again as Lucius offered her a handkerchief and squeezed her shoulder. “You’ve been brave, Daphne, now what about your equally brave friend. We know where Greyback assembles for the full moon.”

“The Minister,” Harry shouted. “They’re getting close he’d wade through fire for her! He was head of the Aurors. I know him quite well.”

“The Minister couldn’t find his own hand in his pocket!” Lucius snarled.

“That’s not true,” Ginny said. “Fine,” she hissed cutting off Lucius arguments, “Daphne, you going with them or with us?”

“Going with the Minister would help the cause much better than sitting around with our hands underneath our backsides,” Daphne responded, decisively taking Lucius hand. “If you love me you’d better get along with my friends,” she whispered.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Daphne swung around on her heels. She was starving, dirt crusted everywhere, her expensive robes turned into nothing more than rags and her hair had clumps of mud, stones and twigs and leaves. Yet Lucius had never seen her more beautiful as she launched her anger on him. “Hermione is my friend and she and I will remain friends despite blood, houses, relatives and whatever kind of crap you still cling to – she’s more important to me than even you right now and she’s about to be turned into a werewolf, so you had better buck up, Lucius. I’m no Narcissa – I will physically kick you into gear if you don’t go along with Ginny’s plan!”

After her impassioned speech, Daphne clutched to her side and panted as she winced. “Just a stitch. Let’s go!”

All of them took the Floo straight into the atrium of the Ministry and took no notice of the finery and pageantry laid out to bear. Daphne and Ginny marched ahead.

“By all the gods, she’s magnificent!” Lucius exclaimed. “Daphne, the one Slytherin that should have gone to Gryffindor.”

“I adore Ginny when she’s angry, but then you know that, don’t you?”

“Anything that takes place inside my club will be protected by me, Mr Potter, your secret is safe with me.”

The witches held their wands out in front of them and bashed the door to the office open “This will have my full attention,” Shacklebolt said, once everything has been explained, he sent his Lynx Patronus to Gawain Robards telling him to gather his Aurors – they were finally going to arrest the scum that evaded capture since the war. “Miss Greengrass, show us where they are I won’t hurt you.” When Shacklebolt came out of her mind he was furious. “Gentlemen, ladies, we apparate. We will side along until everybody is there!”

Thirty minutes later they had all arrived silently. Beyond the clump of bushes, they watched in horror as Hermione had been led to an alter stone covered in runes. She had been cleaned up and wearing a white gown, “My ancestors became wolves on this stone. By becoming wolves, we grow in stature, we’re above mankind! Now, I ravish my bride on this stone as she too becomes more than a woman and shall feel morning dew on her hands forevermore!”

“Over my dead body!” Kingsley yelled as he threw a Bombarda Maxima at the stone.

“We’re under attack,” 

Hermione started to go for her wand but was knocked out cold by a stunner and Red Stripe, whom she knew as Aloysius Scabior now, lifted her up and tried to run away with her. “You’re mine…You’re too good for Fenrir.”

“Actually,” Kingsley said stepping in his path, “She’s mine.” 

Harry Potter sent a Petrificus Totalus Scabior’s way. Hermione was about to drop on the floor if Kingsley had not swept her up in the manner of a Byronic hero and looked at Harry.

“I need to…”

“Just go!”

Kingsley apparated them away. Now the numbers were on the Snatchers side. This was going to be hard work but Azkaban would be full.

August the 27th was to be known as the Final Battle – and what a skirmish it was, but let us stick with the heroes of this story. Daphne circled around the foliage like the tiger her tattoo suggested she was and was soon behind Greyback. Lucius was livid that his own bodyguard, a man whom he thought he could trust, would betray him by taking his lady fair.

“Greyback,” Daphne yelled. “We’re giving you notice – you’re fired!” Just as she was about to hex the brute, another Snatcher, the ugly one they called Jugson sent a violent stinger her way. She dropped down – melted to the floor as the Princess would in an ice cream castle, and it enraged Lucius. Fierce, hot anger burned through his soul for his beloved, he turned towards the werewolf the need for vengeance clear on his face as it shimmered through his body.

“_ SECTUMSEMPRA _!” Yelled a voice he had not heard in months.

The werewolf howled with fear as the spell struck true and he bled profusely from the neck down, splattering some on Lucius’ finer shirts.

“WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN SEVERUS?”

“About - be careful.” 

Another Snatcher was hit by the same curse. Both men went back to back and shot off fateful curses aiming true each time.

“Severus, you got a job by the way,” Lucius shouted over the sounds of duelling, “You’re my new bodyguard.”

Just as it was clear their side won, Daphne fell to the floor again, this time with blood splatters coating her fine lilac rags: “DAPHNE!” Lucius blood-curdling scream put the fear of Merlin into them. “DAPHNE!” skidding on his knees in the mud landing at her fallen side. “We’ve got to help her!” he implored.

A sense of urgency took over Severus and he went to collect the two reprobates. Ginny, whose shoulder was dislocated was apparated to St Mungos. Then he came back to rescue Potter’s whelp whose ankle had twisted. Then came back for Daphne.

“Be careful with my future wife!” Warned Lucius darkly as he glared at Severus with deadly intent in his eyes.

After that, there was no mercy shown. Lucius refused to go until he had avenged the slight against his witch. In total twenty wizards were killed that day and each time it was for Daphne that their blood was spilt. His thirst for revenge was quenched by the rivers of blood lapping at his feet.

*~*~*~*

A month had passed, and the girls were still in deep slumber. “Deeper than time,” Kingsley sighed as he stroked Hermione’s cheek. “We could kiss them – it’s worked before.”

“Daphne, wake up, I want to marry you so please wake up!”

Lucius looked on forlornly as Kingsley placed his lips gently over Hermione’s. She coughed and spluttered, and was awake but in agony. Seeing that it worked emboldened Lucius and he lowered his head to do the same to Daphne, gently pressing his lips against hers, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“Lucius,” she coughed and sputtered mirroring Hermione, “what day is it?”

“September 24th – it’s been a month,” he replied.

Daphne blinked and struggled to glance around the room, but curiosity got the better of her and was astonished and delighted that her friend was there. “Hermione!” she cried.

“Safe beside you, now my dear!”

“That’s a relief, so we won then?”

The next day Lucius bounced into the room with a big bouquet of lilacs, pinks, carnations and gypsophilas almost hiding his face, “For you, my ardent love.”

Hermione had put down the Daily Prophet and watched as Lucius knelt down on one knee. “I cannot promise you ice cream castles like the one I’d had made for your birthday - but I will do my utmost to make you happy!” From the bouquet, he fished out an emerald velvet box and opened it. “Will you, Daphne Arabella Greengrass give me the greatest honour and become my wife?”

“After fighting for me? Of course, I’ll bloody marry you. You’re the best sex I’ve ever had,” she responded. “ER, erm, oops, hello Minister.”

The handsome Minister for Magic had walked in silently behind Lucius but soon sped up his pace at the sight of Hermione sitting up and smiling. “As an Auror,” he said, glancing over at Daphne’s direction, “I have heard worse,” he smirked, “a _lot _worse, believe me!”

“Luc, we’re warriors together now,” Daphne whispered, grabbing hold of his hand.

“Now we’ve truly rid our society from evil.” Lucius smiled warmly down on his witch.

Ice Cream Castles might be impossible to achieve forever but Lucius, Kingsley and Harry would not stop trying to make them, to keep their witches happy. 


End file.
